


This Place We Call Home

by bothromeoandjuliet



Series: Spooky Times Jeronica Week (Wicked Jeronica) [4]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff turned to angst, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jughead is immortal, Sad Ending, Veronica is a ghost, the Romeo and Juliet effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothromeoandjuliet/pseuds/bothromeoandjuliet
Summary: Veronica is a housebound ghost, who's biggest piece of excitement is looking out her window. But then one day a a car appears in the driveway and disturbs Veronica's peace for ever.





	This Place We Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot 4/7 of Spooky Times Jeronca Week! This story will probably be getting a major re-write after this week is over but until then you guys get to read the original version!!
> 
> Comments welcomed and greatly appreciated! <3<3<3

There is always one house, in every town, on every street, that is just a little different from the rest. Maybe it’s lawn is overgrown or it’s paint is chipped; and all that anyone knows about it is that someone loved it, once upon a time.Couples have thrived inside it’s walls and children have been raised in it’s backyard, but that is always forty, fifty, sixty years in the past, and while the occupants move on, the house never does. It sits there, slowly fading away, holding it’s structure firm against the pounding rain; the blowing winds, creaking out it’s long held promise, ‘I have sheltered them, and when they need me again, I shall still be here, waiting to protect them once more.’

There was one such house, on quiet street, in a small suburb, with a for rent or sale sign in the front lawn. It was called the Green House and to anyone looking in, the property would have looked completely deserted, but from the inside out was an entirely different matter.

Veronica Lodge had been the resident ghost at Green House for the last sixty-five years. There had been another ghost at first, when Veronica had first arrived, who had gone by the name Billy, but he had faded away many years ago, leaving Veronica by herself.

She had found it to be pretty lonely work, haunting a practically abandoned house, and the day that she had seen a man pounding a sign into the front yard Veronica could have almost jumped for joy. But weeks had turned into months, and months into years, and Veronica gradually forgot all about the sign, which is is why, when she heard the sounds of footsteps and the front door creaking open one cold day in October, she was almost as frightened as if she had begun to be haunted herself.

She rushed to the window, and saw a small car sitting in the driveway, with one door open, but devoid of a driver. Veronica had been in a car before, and she knew that they had changed since then, but they hadn’t—to her knowledge—begun to drive themselves. Downstairs a door creaked, sending Veronica whirling around. Another step on the stair—and she had disappeared completely, watching, wide-eyed, as a man entered the room, a brown cardboard box in his arms.

Veronica watches him for the rest of the day, hiding in the shadows; in the dark. It doesn’t take long for him to bring in the rest of his things, which she supposes isn’t all that strange. The house is furnished, after all, and very well taken care of is she says so herself. Still, she would have had more things to move if it was her.

She waits all of two days before she finally gives and approaches him. He’s just finished eating dinner and is sitting at the old wooden table with his head in his hands, fingers working through his thick, dark hair. Veronica, who up till now had been sitting on the stairs, watching him, stole down the to where he he was sitting, and, taking a deep breath, said, “Hello.”

He jerked at her voice, the legs of his chair scrapping hard against the wooden floor as his head lifted and his gaze met her’s.

“Oh, hell.” he groaned “Hell no! Don’t tell me that out of all the houses I had to choose, I ended up stuck with the one that has a ghost infestation."

Veronica flinched at the vehemence of his tone, then replied, slightly miffed.

“Well perhaps you should have checked to see if someone was living here before bursting in here with your sad collection of possessions. _I_ certainly don’t want you here, disturbing me and my afterlife. Really, you’d think that a man of your age would have picked up some manners even if he was never taught them.”

“What do you mean, ‘man of my age’?” he asked, swallowing nervously.

Veronica snorted. “Obviously I’m referencing your immortality.” gesturing towards him with a flick of her wrist, “And before you ask how I know that—the t-shirt you’re wearing is original, not thrifted, upstairs you have a first edition of ‘How To Kill a Mockingbird’—signed—and as a ghost I can tell whether a person’s heart is beating or not; so you can stick that in your three-hundred year old pipe and smoke it.”

He stares at her for a beat, eyes curious and rather blank, then says slowly, “Three-hundred year old pipe?”

“I took a stab in the dark—deal with it.”

“Still, it’s a bit of a stretch.” tipping back his chair and looking steadily at her, “My current documentation says that my name is Jughead, but you can call me Forsythe. And you are?”

“Veronica—Veronica Cecilla Lodge.”

“Well, Veronica, I have a lease here for the next three months and I’d like to be able to fulfill my contract without any interference. So what do you say; you up for having a roommate?"

She leans closer to his face after he finishes speaking and he smirks up at her—smug and self-satisfied. He obviously thinks that this is his game to lose, and the thought would set Veronica’s blood boiling if she had any.

So she leans in a little closer, matches his smile with one of her own…and then promptly disappears.

It takes Veronica another three days to accept that Jughead—which is only preferable to Forsythe because it’s a tad less pretentious—is really staying. True, she doesn’t try very hard to get rid of him, in the first place because she may be dead, but she has no interest in perpetuating ghost stereotypes, _thank you very much_, and the second, because he’s actually not bad company on the whole.

Plus, he cooks. Like really, professionally, cooks, complete with exotic spices and secret recipes that he always shoos Veronica out of the kitchen when he’s making them. Not that Veronica could ever tell anyone, what with her being housebound and all, but she finds his persistence about the whole thing sort of…endearing.

One night Jughead brings out a metal book to show her—tells her that it’s called an computer, (although throughout the conversation he also refers to it as a ‘laptop’ so Veronica’s really not sure what the proper name is,) and shows her that inside the ‘computer’ is a wonderful place he calls The Internet, where people of all sorts write out their opinions about different subjects.

He then explains to her that he’s a writer, a useful job because as long as he uses a pen name he never has to worry about being found out, but when Veronica asks to read some his work he hurries away from the topic in embarrassment. That’s alright with Veronica though, because he shows her something else that’s more wonderful then his writing and the computer and The Internet combined. Colored movies.

She’d seen colored movies before of course, but none of them had ever been a beautiful as the ones that Jughead shows her. She oohs and ahhs over the first one they watch—Jughead calls it Jurassic World—and he seems to be amused by Veronica’s reaction, so it ends up being their nightly ritual—with Jughead tucked up to his chin in bed and Veronica hovering over the other side of the bed next to him.

She starts watching them when he goes out for the day too, movies about love and romance, something that Veronica never truly got to experience in her too short life. Some of them make her blush, and others make her cry, but none of them are very satisfying to her, which is why, when one afternoon she looks out of the window and see’s Jughead talking to a blonde girl in the driveway, an lightbulb goes off in her mind—as bright as a lightening bolt.

“Who’s that girl?” she asks as he enters, digging for his keys with one hand and balancing a bag of groceries in the other.

“What girl?”

“Don’t be obtuse—the pretty, blonde girl you were just talking to.”

“Oh, her? That’s Betty Cooper, our neighbor; but shouldn’t you know that already? She said that she’s lived here her entire life.”

“I don’t make my business to notice such things. After all, it’s not like it would do any good.”

Dropping the bag sown onto the table, Jughead looked up at Veronica, quizzically.

“Then why does it matter now?”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Veronica asked, ignoring Jughead’s question.

“I mean…I guess so, yeah.”

“And so you like her? You know, as a person?”

“I suppose so—What are you up to, Veronica?”

“I’m going to get you a date with that girl.”

Jughead dropped a can of diced tomatoes on the counter and shook his head at her.

“No, Veronica, no! I can’t—someone in my position doesn’t do _relationships_—not now, not ever!”

“Oh don’t be ridicules, I’m not suggesting you marry the girl, I’m just saying that it would do you good to play the field a little.”

“‘Play the field?’ Honestly, Veronica, I don’t know where you get these ideas. I’m perfectly happy with my life; exactly the way it is.”

“You’re practically a recluse! Your only friend is a housebound ghost, and your only contact to the outside world is a publisher who doesn’t even know your real name! Please, Jughead,” she pouted, “I’m asking you to do this, for me, _please_.”

His scowl melted slightly at the sight of Veronica protruding lower lip, and after a long pause he said, “Alright, fine. I can’t guarantee that Betty will want to go out with me, but I give you leave to do your worst, Ghosty. Create your ‘perfect’ man.”

“Fantastic!” Veronica squealed “We start with your clothes.”

It’s a bit harder then Veronica expected to make Jughead change his stance on what he calls his ‘style’—which many consists of graphic t-shirts and faded jeans—and he categorically refuses to try Veronica’s first suggestion of a full suit, but they end up finding a middle ground.

Plain shirts, black jeans, and a black leather jacket that Veronica finds one day, stuck at the bottom of one of those brown boxes Jughead had brought with him. After the clothes come the hair—a slight trim around Jughead ears and at the nap of his neck—and then Veronica finally gives him the stamp of approval.

“What, are you finally satisfied?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy this.” Veronica reprimands him from were she sitting in the corner.

Jughead smirks at her, then turns to his mirror, straightening his shirt and then lifts a hand to his hair.

“Don’t you dare mess with that hair!” Veronica exclaims, bouncing over to him, pausing once she catches sight of his reflection in the mirror.

“See something you like Ghosty?”

She swallows hard—at his reflection—at the fact that she doesn’t have one, then answers, “You’re fishing for compliments, but I’ll be the first to admit that you clean up nicely.”

“Guess that means that tonight is the night then. You honestly think this will work out?”

The excitement in his voice drops Veronica’s heart to her feet, even though she’s not completely sure why, so she turns her back to him hastily, saying, “I suppose so.”

He leaves. He leaves and Veronica can’t understand why it hurts, why she can’t seem to stand at the window and watch him go like she normally would. And the whole time he’s gone she paces up and down the living room. Her stomach twists, and she clenches her hands together and she tries, over and over again, to understand her strange reaction, but she can’t. But then Jughead walks through the door and everything makes sense.

His hair fell down in waves over his forehead, and his eyes gaze at Veronica and they’re filled with so much life—and then he says her name and Veronica’s knees turn to water.

“You waiting for your report then, Ghosty?”

“Well that was the point of this whole thing, wasn’t it?” she bites out, turning away so she can pretend not to see the look of confusion on Jughead’s face.

“I guess so…But I thought you’d be more excited, especially since we got what you wanted."

“What?”

“She agreed to go get a drink with me sometime, which means mission accomplished—Veronica, what is it?”

Veronica shook her head, desperately clinging to the breath that she had sucked in in an effort not to release the sob that had lodged itself in her throat.

“Nothing.”

“No, not nothing.” said Jughead, walking over to where Veronica stood “You’re upset about something and I want you to tell me what it is so I can help.”

“You can’t help.” looking up at Jughead with pleading eyes.

“‘Course I can, you just have too—oh…” he breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, realization flooding his face.

Veronica drops her eyes, staring down at his feet. The sun is dropping low in the sky—shining fire through the window. She can hear Jughead’s shallow breathing; the slow steady beat of his heart.

“Veronica…” he whispers.

She lifts her head to look at him and he brings his right hand up to her face. Only…Veronica doesn’t have a face, not really, so instead of touching her Jughead’s fingers end up floating through her. She flinches at the almost touch—recoils—while Jughead’s hands stay awkwardly in the space where her body should be but isn’t. Veronica can feel another sob climbing up her throat, and she jerks away to the other side of the room, away from him and his sympathetic eyes and yearning hands.

He makes a move to follow her but Veronica holds up a hand, stopping him from coming any closer.

“Don’t,” she chokes out “don’t come any closer. We can’t—this—there’s nothing we can do.”

“…I’m sorry, Veronica.”

Veronica shook her head, then, looking Jughead full in the face, said, “So am I.”

Jughead winced and Veronica released her sob at last, allowing herself to disappear from view.

“Veronica!?” Jughead called “Veronica!”

She doesn’t answer him.


End file.
